


No Sound Without Silence

by howtotrainyourfangirl



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: American Sign Language, Deaf Character, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Soul Eater Reverse Resonance Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtotrainyourfangirl/pseuds/howtotrainyourfangirl
Summary: After hearing a young man playing the piano in a cafe, Maka Albarn determines herself to become acquainted with him. His music fascinated her and she finds herself wanting to know why it seemed so sorrowful, but communication becomes a challenge when she learns that he is deaf.The man, Soul Evans, has accepted living in quiet, yet struggles to cope with the overwhelming feeling of desolation he often faces. Meeting Maka might mean a new turn for him, a new hope, and they work to help each other through the rocky waves and hardships that life may throw at them.
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64
Collections: Chibi! Reverse Resonance Bang 2020





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azro_zee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azro_zee/gifts).



“Latte for Maka Albarn?”

Maka’s head shot up when she heard her name, hurriedly rushing to the counter where her drink sat. “At last,” she muttered, carrying it over to the condiments bar, grabbing two sugar packets and a napkin.

Maka opened her laptop, jogging her mind for any inspiration to continue her writing. She had an adoration for literature and majored it for college. Her professor had recommended a writing course that supported and encouraged aspiring authors. Of course, she signed up right away. The course was difficult, though and an assignment to complete a short-story was due. 

Minutes passed, and she had barely written a sentence. Maka groaned. She had hit a major roadblock.

After a few hours, she realised that someone had begun to play the piano. Maka paused her writing and stared at the stage. She couldn’t see the pianist’s face, just a small glimpse of white hair and a headband. It wasn’t uncommon for teenagers or the once-in-a-while professional musician to perform, and it was always lovely, but she never paid much attention to it. Until now.

She recognised the pianist as one of the more common performers in the cafe, bringing classical pieces to the modern setting. Never had she heard him play something like this. 

She listened in awe as a story seemed to be spun by the notes that were played. The music sped up to allegro, projecting the sound of wishful dreams and happiness onto the audience. Maka, along with many others in the cafe, listened. Suddenly, the tone changed and the tempo slowed, turning the song into an angry, mournful tune that sent chills down her spine. She found herself holding her breath as the notes flew about in a whirlwind of despair and loss.

The song was weeping. 

An idea came to her at last. She could write the story of a jovial character who hasn’t got a care in the world until they are met with a cruel reality that they must learn to adapt to. The number continued drearily, never returning to the festive, bright tempo it had begun with and instead coming to terms with a neutral, slow tune.

The pianist stood, avoiding eye contact with the people in the audience. A few soft claps were heard, but that was it. Maka blinked. She knew it wasn’t uncommon for people to come, play their piece, and leave without expecting any sort of appraisal, but this man deserved it. She watched as the people proceeded to converse and continue their days as if they hadn’t just heard a breathtaking piece of music that had enraptured the whole cafe for a good five minutes.

She felt her cheeks heating up in frustration at the lack of appreciation there’d been for the young man. He started to collect his belongings, taking his backpack and shoving a notebook into it. Maka noticed in surprise that he hadn’t used any sheet music for the piece he’d just played.

“Excuse me, sir?” she called out, wanting to tell him his music was wonderful. He didn’t reply, not even turning his head to her, and instead walked to the line. Maka frowned in distaste.

“He can’t hear you, love,” a woman in a booth near to her spoke up. Maka turned to her, puzzled, and the lady, who must’ve been in her sixties, explained, “that boy’s been deaf for six years.”

Her jaw dropped open in shock. She whipped her head back to see the young pianist who was ordering a drink at the counter.

“Was that piece… yours?” she whispered, her eyes watching as he trudged out of the cafe with sunken eyes, very much the walking epitome of the music she had just heard him play.

* * *

All his life, he had known silence. Even before he’d lost his hearing.

In brutal honesty, being deaf wasn’t as bad as Soul Evans had initially thought it’d be. He could allow himself to drown in the lonely, yet comforting silence that surrounded him without having to cover his ears anymore. In his high-achieving family, he’d never wanted to associate in the life they had carved for him. His only relaxation was his _own_ music. If he couldn’t have his music, silence it was. He preferred to withdraw and leave everything up to his imagination. At least, now he didn’t have an excuse. The silence was a comfort.

When he had first lost his hearing, he felt as though he’d lost music as well. He’d broken down in the hospital room and cried into his brother’s arms for hours. At home, he was the only one who couldn’t hear the sobs that echoed from his room and rattled the house like a thunderstorm at night, despite being the one who produced them. Soul learned to live with it and told himself that no matter if he was deaf, or blind, or lost an arm or a leg, piano and music would always be a part of his life.

Soul had grown up around music, knowing nothing but piano lessons and the fact that his mum was a successful singer and his brother Wes was a musical prodigy. He knew he disliked the family path of musical fame from the very beginning when he had his first piano recital at the age of four. He had made many mistakes, and it felt as though the whole world had frowned. The other four-year-olds had surely been judging him. His mother had him practice the piece for hours that night, embarrassed beyond belief about the number of fellow musicians who had questioned her about her son’s poor piano performance.

Despite his resentment towards his family’s lifestyle and the fate he seemed to have in the world of music, he still decided to perform in the Cafe Maganda. He didn’t mind, for some reason. Soul realised that this piano, this environment, would be nothing but welcoming to him because they had no expectations of him. Besides, he still loved music. His family couldn’t stop him from playing what he wanted.

He accepted and worked with the thought that no one in the cafe cared about what he was playing, or his existence. Sometimes they would clap, and maybe a few kids would come to him, but he had decided with himself that just as the customer of Cafe Maganda would expect nothing from him, he would expect nothing from them either. So when one day, a girl with ashy blonde hair walked up to him and signed “ _Hello_ ”, he was in absolute disbelief.


	2. ii.

The day she saw him perform in Cafe Maganda, Maka determined that she would talk to the man somehow. But, learning that the pianist was deaf had thrown her into a bit of a spiral. It would definitely be more difficult than talking to him straight-up with spoken words.

“You’re really going to take ASL classes?” her friend Tsubaki asked in wonder. Maka nodded. She was determined to communicate with this man, no matter how long it would take until she could. Tsubaki watched as Maka scrolled through the internet and Google Maps, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she searched for an ASL course she could work with.

“What if you just write on a notebook, though? Wouldn’t that be simpler and less time-consuming?”

Maka shook her head, continuing her search. She wanted to genuinely communicate with this man. She’d make sure of it.

“How do you think he lost his hearing?” she spoke aloud, not even directly speaking to Tsubaki who looked at her with a concerned eyebrow raised. “How might someone lose that?”

Tsubaki shrugged, looking out the window of Maka’s tiny dorm room.

“You know, I felt like his music embodied the course of life; how every child spends their days at the centre of their world, having fun with smiles on their faces, as every child should be, ” Maka spoke, her eyes glazing over as she explained her perception wistfully. “They remain so until they reach adulthood or... something happens. His music was so sorrowful. It began cheerfully and descended into grief. 

I wonder, Tsubaki, if that song was about him.”

Tsubaki closed her eyes and took a long breath, exhaling out of her nose as she stared at the ceiling in contemplation. Both of them sat in silence for a while, questions hanging in the air unanswered.

* * *

Maka started returning to the cafe more often than usual, finding time to work there almost every day. She awaited the arrival of the young pianist, listening intently to his music as she wrote to it. Her writing had begun to come together in ways it never had before, and she delighted in it. Visiting the cafe had become a part of her daily routine, Tsubaki sometimes joining, as she listened to his melodies whilst writing the story that she never could’ve begun without his music bringing it to life.

A few times, she even ran to the cafe after her classes finished. The excitement and anticipation just to see and hear the man play was exhilarating, and truly the highlight of every day. Tsubaki began to jokingly call her fascination with the man and his music “an obsession”, and she couldn’t have agreed more. Something about his music pulled her in, taking her to another world where she watched from a front-row seat as the notes wove tales that she could spin into words.

“Someday,” she murmured to herself, eyes watching the mass of white hair move from behind the piano, “I will properly talk to you.”

Time passed, and Maka flew through her writing course and ASL classes. She had never felt as driven in her life to accomplish something and after a while, she decided she could try to communicate with the man. She had mustered up the courage once but that confidence had left her as quickly as it came.

Maka waited until the pianist had finished his number and had gone in line to order and stood from the table she’d occupied for the past month. Every step towards him felt as though she had metal clamps on her feet, trying to keep her stuck in place at the safety of her table, but she ignored the growing pit in her stomach and continued her way to the pianist. When she finally was standing behind him in line, she tapped his shoulder.

Her shoulders felt heavy from how stiff they were when he turned around, and she raised her hands to shakily sign, “ _H_ _ello._ ”

The shock on the man’s face was incredibly apparent and almost amusing. She shook away the overwhelming nervousness she was feeling and continued.

“ _I am Maka._ ” She spelt her name out messily, as she didn’t yet have a name sign. “ _I wanted you to know I think you’re an amazing pianist._ ”

The man stared at her, mouth slightly agape as he processed the sentence she was choppily spelling out. Eyes never leaving her face, he replied, “ _My name is Soul. Soul Evans. It’s nice to meet someone who knows sign language._ ”

Maka nodded, the anxiety she’d been feeling about meeting this man had disappeared completely. Her hands formed the few rehearsed lines she could hope he’d understand. Her experience with the language was still very little, and her vocabulary was close to nothing. She had worked for hours a day to learn the language as well as she could, and could hold only a basic conversation.

“ _I’m still new. I’m learning sign language to speak to you,_ ” she continued. The man’s eyebrows shot up in absolute bewilderment and she sheepishly grinned.

“ _Why would you?_ ” he signed, lips moving slightly as he unconsciously mouthed something along with it.

“ _Because Soul,_ ” Maka had rehearsed this message specifically to tell him, “ _your music is heartbreakingly beautiful. And it’s wonderful._ ”


	3. iii.

As time passed, Soul began to get to know the girl named Maka who had approached him. The fact that she had taken the time to try and learn sign language to speak with him baffled him. He knew from the moment he met her that they were going to change each other’s lives for the better.

Maka was enjoyable to be around. Despite their language barrier, he helped her in her studies of ASL, and she was learning fast. He found it funny that she had decided to learn a whole new language to communicate with him, and when he told her that it would’ve been fine to use a notebook, she refused the idea. 

She was talkative and energetic, and didn’t mind being more of a chatterbox with him despite how _non-_ talkative Soul usually was. He had trouble with conversations, not only because of his deafness but also because he wasn’t the most enthusiastic when it came to conversing with people.

Maka reminded him a bit of his best friend Black⭑Star, as they both could hold conversations for hours and never ever bore him. They began to hang out more, and she moved from her table in the corner (he had somewhat noticed her as a common visitor) to a seat next to the piano where he played.

She told him about her life, how her father was a womanizing bastard who didn’t care for loyalty, how her mother was an adventurous and headstrong woman who she aspired to be like. Soul decided Maka was indeed very much like her mother in how they both were bold and didn’t let anything degrading stop them. She told him about her dreams of becoming a successful writer, and allowed him to read her stories as he let her hear him play.

He told her about his life, too, and the family he had. He felt safe with her, and loved every second he spent in her presence. Soul knew that he probably liked her, and while the fact scared him, he didn’t mind it one bit.

Above all, he so wished he could hear her voice, as he knew her voice was surely wonderful, just like her. He could settle for this, though, being able to hear her voice through her beautiful writing and the language they now shared together.

* * *

Maka had never heard Soul’s voice. And she really never thought she would.

With the time that they had gotten to know each other, Maka slowly opened up to Soul, and he to her. Maka’s talk about her father had always been jokingly, as she never wanted to seem vulnerable about the things he had done. She never wanted anyone to think that his cheating had affected her in any way. She kept an image where she was a strong, independent girl who was not bothered by the mistakes and idiotic actions of a man, but in reality she knew her father’s cheating had hurt her very much.

One day, she and Soul went on a walk in the public park near the water. The November chill made it much more calming. These aren’t uncommon between the two of them, as they’ve been making it a habit to spend time together in different ways. While sitting at a bench, in a moment of vulnerability, she tells him of her insecurities about relationships, especially with men, and how the strained relationships within her family have really affected her.

She tells him about her burning desire to always be the best, and how she can get too wrapped up in it sometimes.

She tells him how she is scared of failure, but how she often feels like she already failed someone, or something, in a way she can’t figure out. And how it terrifies her.

Through it all, Soul listened intently, understandingly, and by the end Maka felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

“ _Soul, if you don’t mind me asking,_ ” she slowly signed nervously. The question had been following her for the many months she knew him, and she wanted to know.

But she didn’t have to ask. “ _How did I lose my hearing?_ ” he signed in a guess, a weary smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow to her. Her eyes widened as she nodded incredulously, watching as he signed a shocking request.

“ _If_ _you don’t mind, may I tell you this directly?_ ” he signed, a look of unease forming on his face.

“ _What do you mean?_ ”

“ _I think… I want to tell you this with words. I want to speak,_ ” he replied, his ruby eyes staring holes into her green ones. “ _Will you be alright with it?_ ”

Unable to form words of her own, Maka nodded. _"Of course."_

His voice was nothing like she expected. It was deep and smooth, and she felt her own words falter. She’d expected him to sound nasal, after six years of not being able to hear the development of his own voice, but his voice was a calming one that he’d unfortunately never be able to hear.

“It’s my fault, Maka,” he spoke softly, no longer looking at her. Instead, he stared out onto the water as he relived the events that had taken place. “They were in a rush, we had an event. My parents were always at each other’s throats, and I just made things worse.”

Maka opened her mouth, raising her hands, wanting to tell him that wasn’t true, but he put his hand up to stop her. She pressed her lips into a thin line, ready to listen.

“We were on the highway, and I realised I left my music sheet at home. I… I told them, and my mum got upset. She said something, I don’t remember what, something about how irresponsible I am. I got defensive and yelled at her. I said some nasty things, and she reached over to grab my headphones. We were too distracted and my father, who was yelling too, couldn’t see the car behind us that was trying to switch lanes, and accidentally slammed into the side of it and ran us off the road.”

His hands reached up to touch his neck, right below his earlobes. “That’s how I lost my hearing, I guess.”

“ _It’s not your fault,”_ she assured him. Her hand made its way to rest on his shoulder, and she turned his head to her. Eyebrows furrowed in a concerned yet determined glance, she nodded to him. He nodded back, a silent, mutual agreement formed between them.

“ _Everything will be okay. I will always be here for you.”_


	4. iv.

“ _I think I like you._ ”

The words had stopped him in his tracks. They were sitting at a table in the cafe, months after meeting each other. Soul was waiting for the piano to become unoccupied while Maka sat beside him, writing for her course. It was just another normal day. A comfortable day, as they did this a lot.

Suddenly, she had tapped him on the shoulder, and signed that sentence that practically stopped his heart. Soul smiled at her weakly, his head reeling as he processed what she had just told him.

_Maka Albarn… likes me? Soul Eater Evans, a desolate, silent boy who sits and composes haunting music and can’t find his purpose in life?_

He didn’t realise he had shaken his head, because he meant it as he was telling himself that Maka Albarn did not like him. She couldn’t. She was too good for him, too sweet, too kind. And deserved better.

But when he looked at her, fear and unease obvious on her face as she tried to analyse what he _possibly_ could’ve meant by shaking his head, he decided that even if a girl like Maka shouldn’t like someone like him, she deserved an answer.

“ _Maka,_ ” he signed back, watching how stiff and tense her whole body had gone. “ _I think I like you as well._ ”

Her face broke into a relieved grin, and she pulled him into a hug. They had no idea what they were going to do now, but this was good enough for now.

* * *

Three weeks later, they stayed later than usual at the Cafe Maganda in celebration of Maka finishing her writing course. Her story had been completed after weeks of hard work and Soul surprised her with a small celebratory cake and coffee.

They left the cafe at it’s closing time at 22:00; they had never stayed so late before. Soul congratulated her on the completion of her writing course multiple times that evening.

“ _You know, it’s all because of you,_ ” she told him. The fact that his music had been what inspired her entire story and chased away her writer's block amused him, and he laughed about it for a good while.

“ _I’m glad I was of assistance to you, Maka,_ ” he said before leaving, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before bashfully shuffling towards the door.

Maka stared at him with her hand on her cheek, eyes wide. She decided it was finally time to tell him the phrase she’d learned, specifically learned, for him. She needed to let him know.

“Wait!” she called out, running out to the street and grabbing him by the arm. She knew he hadn’t heard her, and his eyes darted to her, confusion etched onto his slightly red face. Her hand reached out to touch his cheek. Soul’s jaw dropped slightly in surprise (he did seem to do that a lot when flustered) and his eyebrows shot up. After a deep breath, she collected herself and placed her hands to his chest. She signed with all her heart, “ _I love you._ ”

For a few brief moments, nothing happened. Maka gulped, her cheeks began to flush as she realised the awkwardness of the situation she had just put them in. What if she hadn’t even signed it properly? What could she possibly expect in return? Her world was spinning, and she couldn’t tell what she had just done.

All her worries faded away when Soul let out a laugh. It wasn’t loud or mocking, just a soft, amused chuckle accompanied by his almost ruby-red eyes lighting up in adoration. Maka tensed in embarrassment when he wrapped his arms around her, the laugh never leaving his mouth. Gritting her teeth, Maka broke the hug, pushing herself out of his embrace as she huffed angrily. 

_“Is this funny to you?”_ she signed. She could see her breath in the cold winter air. This seemed to fuel Soul’s laughter even more, and he shook his head unconvincingly.

 _“No,”_ he replied. _“It’s adorable.”_

Maka gaped at him, a mixture of emotions washing over her at once. Glee, embarrassment, frustration, and she punched him lightly in the arm. _“I just told you I love you and you’re laughing at it?!”_ she signed angrily.

He shook his head, opening his mouth as his lips still curled into the smile she loved so much. “I love you too,” he said seriously, leaning his head back and staring at her to make sure she knew he really meant it.

It was surreal, and Maka placed her head to Soul’s chest and laughed while he engulfed her into a hug once again. They didn’t need to say anything more, and instead stood there in the chilly November weather. They were content as they were, and had found a path of their own through a world of silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my work for the 2020 Chibi-Reverse Resonance Bang! I had the honour of working with the amazing artist azro-azizah who provided the story plot and art for this fic. I'm so glad I able to work on this, it's been wonderful.


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